


An Operational Intermission

by Rat_In_The_Wall



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15236910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rat_In_The_Wall/pseuds/Rat_In_The_Wall
Summary: Maki is an assassin.No one knows that. To the world, she's Maki Harukawa, an unemployed adult who occasionally takes care of the neighbourhood children. Kaito Momota doesn't know. Of course he doesn't. He's the Luminary of the Stars - his head is always in another galaxy.Kaito is a space obsessed idiot. Trying to get anywhere with him that isn't the moon or Mars is nothing but trouble. Maki knows this. She knows Kaito better than anyone.So why is it that she finds herself thrown into his orbit?





	1. The Moon

Maki has been tailing Miu Iruma for a while now – three months.

 

In those three months, Maki has patiently bided her time following the inventor from a safe distance – right by Miu’s side.

 

During this interlude, Maki does not go by her name, nor is she a professional assassin. She’s Saki Watanabe, a female bodyguard who protects Miu from jealous rival companies and fervid fans. Maki’s followed Miu all through the United Arab Emirates, China, Japan, and finally, back to America. She’s been to every conference, to every late night out, to every award ceremony Miu’s attended.

 

It’s been a tedious three months, and now, Maki is finally getting ready to pull the trigger.

 

The aiming reticle wavers over Miu’s figure, who is currently wired and tense from the long speech given at the reward ceremony. Maki was there, standing behind Miu whilst clouded by the white light of the stage. The receiver of the speech had not been Miu herself, unexpectedly. Instead, it was dedicated to a man who’s name Maki could never forget.

 

The door to Miu’s hotel room shifts. Maki gently tilts the gun. She lies on the roof of a building, closer than she’d like to her target’s position. It’s a high-risk mission, one that Maki will most likely never be able to weasel out of, due to the extreme endangerment of association with Miu. If the shine of her gun were to catch the eye of anyone in the hotel, she’d be done for.

 

The door slowly opens. From behind it appears a man with a stoic face and white hair.

 

It’s him – Keebo, the man Miu dedicated her speech to, the CEO of a rising robotics company.

 

Keebo – Maki’s target.

 

Her crosshair immediately tracks down Keebo, stilling on his figure and hovering over his chest, right where Maki approximates his heart is. Keebo, she notices, is a man who reserves his actions and uses the space of his area minimally. This makes it particularly easy for Maki to get the reticle to where she needs it quickly. From the corner of her scope, she sees Miu bound towards him, her normally stiff scowl turning into something softer, something more delicate under the yellow light of her room.

 

Miu is running there faster than expected. She’ll get in the way of the trajectory. Reluctantly, Maki moves her crosshair to Keebo’s head. She does not particularly like headshots, for they are messy and give away to the positioning of the shot immediately upon first glance.

 

Keebo smiles a small smile – one lathered of many reassurances and succour.

_Maybe they were lovers_ , Maki thinks. ‘ _Were’_ , because she has already fired.

 

It’s anticlimactic. The gun makes no more than a muffled clunk as she pulls the trigger, and she is too far to hear the shattering of the hotel glass. She tucks away her gun as her target falls to the ground.

 

Maki glances at the scene long enough to see blood immediately paint the beige wallpaper of the hotel rooms. The splatter gives way to the vector of the bullet. She quickly clears her equipment and rushes down the building.

 

The radio on her hip crackles, sending distressed cries of static. She rips it from its holder and puts it against her jaw.

 

_“Saki, come right now!”_ Miu’s yell thunders through the radio, her voice unguardedly showing her anguish.

 

Maki leaps down the flight of stairs. “Yes, ma’am,” she replies. She is not out of breath.

 

Maki doesn’t feel guilty, but she certainly doesn’t feel justified, either.

 

  

* * *

  

 

It’s the sunlight on her face and not the blaring of her alarm that wakes Maki up.

 

Drowsily, she pulls her arms over her head and languidly stretches. Tensions in her shoulders melt and she is greeted with the pleasant warmth of sunrise. Last night’s mission screens through her head like a drunken blur. It was poorly and hastily executed. Anyone with a pair of eyes will be able to pinpoint exactly where Maki was at the time of the shooting. Maki sighs and rolls to her side. Whatever – what’s done is done. She can’t fix her mistakes now. She pushes herself up by her elbows and sluggishly drags her legs out from under her blankets.

 

Once Maki is sitting, she debates. Should she eat first, or exercise first? The sun settles its caring hand on her neck. She’s warm and comfortably wrapped in the dust that swirls around the room – she’ll exercise first.

 

Maki starts the day with one hundred push-ups. It was previously two hundred, but this number was put to controversy on the table when a certain someone said it would leave her high-strung for the rest of the day if she did that many, so she cut the number down by half. Maki feels no different, but at least that certain someone is satisfied. After one hundred push-ups, she prepares herself for a jog around the neighbourhood. It takes a few minutes for Maki to brush her teeth, change into appropriate clothing, and get herself out the door. After her run, Maki will eat breakfast in front of her cheap television, because she needs to see the morning news. Maki slips her jogging shoes on and closes the door behind her carefully; if she slams it, which she has done on one too many occasions, the entire house rattles. Maki begins her run by heading northwest.

 

The neighbourhood is quiet and inattentive as usual. There’s not much to see, with replicated houses lining the street. If it weren’t for minor details, like cars and discarded toys strewn across the front yards, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between where Mrs Holland and Mr Baker live, or where Mrs Wilson resides. There’s a toy car she nearly treads on when she crosses the road. If it weren’t for the lustre of its red exterior, she might have. Distantly, she recognises it as Matthew’s, who’s the son of Mr and Mrs Hernandez. She tucks it into the pocket of her track jacket – Matthew will be visiting this afternoon, so she’ll give it to him then.

 

Deeming it about time she returns home, Maki sets a path for herself back. The cool air wraps around her cheeks and bites at her ear. It brushes at her face until she can no longer feel her nose, but it is a pleasant experience. It’s like plunging into the ocean without getting wet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the dire situation, Miu had dismissed all her bodyguards and assistants, wanting to be alone to grieve. This greatly displeased her manager, but in the end, the CEO of Winchester is Miu, and her words are absolute. It is a perfect situation for Maki. She desperately hoped for time off today, because she has an important visitor to attend to. Maki pours milk into her cornflakes and pushes the bowl onto the dining table. From her position, she has an awkward view of the television in the living room, but it is better than eating on the couch, where she could potentially spill something.

 

The television blearily displays the events of last night, showing the blood splatter on the wall – a mistake Maki tenses at – the shattered glass, the body covered by a black plastic. The voice of a reporter and frantic demands of citizens cuts into the next scene. This one displays Miu being ushered into a black car, while Maki, or Saki in a blonde wig, fends off prying cameras and microphones. The car speeds off with the reporter’s announcement of Miu’s suspicion as culprit, seeing as she was with Keebo at the time of his death.

 

Maki feeds herself a large spoon of cereal and crunches on it. She’s safe for now if doubt is being pushed on her employer. She has to work for Miu for possibly another year, least she want herself to become a liable suspect for the case.

 

The television flickers as the scene cuts. This time, it’s at the national space station in the dead of the night. Reporters must have been clamouring to get from the hotel to there. There are flashes as several cameras light up to catch a glimpse of the world’s Luminary of the Stars, Kaito Momota. Maki grimaces. How claustrophobic. Suddenly, there’s a millisecond where the camera rises above all else. Maki’s poor, small television screen displays Kaito’s starry grin and his beaming face, undisturbed by the commotion that surrounds him. The spoon in her grip unconsciously slips and clatters into the bowl. Milk splatters over her hand, but her breath is lodged in her throat and her eyes are stitched to the screen, so she pays no mind to the mess she made.

 

Kaito’s hair is a disarray of rotten purple that hangs over his face, and he has more facial hair than she remembers, but it’s still Kaito Momota, Maki’s best friend, his face as vibrant as it has always been.

 

With due timing, there’s rapt banging on her door. Maki shakily gets up, her breath still tangled in her lungs. There are light years between her and the door. Maki trips and stumbles and founders, but her legs keep pushing her in fervour desperation. She latches onto the door handle and unlocks it with fumbling fingers.

 

The door opens before she can pull it. There, in front of her house, Kaito Momota, who she saw on the television seconds ago, has miraculously placed himself before her.

 

“Makiroll,” he greets, eyes twinkling. “I’m back.”

 

There’s a sob that jumps at her throat, an embarrassing sound that she muffles behind her palm. She feels like she’s on the moon – she’s lighter, floating, and her heart pounds slower. Kaito grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her in for a tight hug. She’s hit with the scent of roasted chestnuts and is wrapped in immediate warmth that curls around her like an old scarf. She’s grounded, secure, and her pulse beats rabbit-fast in her ears. With her ear pressed against Kaito’s chest, Maki listens for the intimate reliability of his thumping heart, but hears nothing.

 

Kaito pulls away, but Maki still presses a hand on his arm, afraid he’ll float off to another place far away where she can’t reach. “Welcome back,” she replies, and gives him a shaky smile. Kaito returns her gesture with an audacious grin.

 

Maki wonders why his smile looks a little sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting a space pun in the summary haunts me in my sleep.  
> Talk to me on [Tumblr](https://captain-yasai.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Mars

“Mars is beautiful, Maki—everything is the colour of your eyes!”

 

Maki swallows too much of her cereal and chokes. Kaito reaches over and gives her a helpful pat on the shoulder while she sputters. She turns around in her chair and tries to desperately cough air back into her oesophagus.

 

“I need to take you there with me some day,” Kaito continues. “You’ll love it, I swear!”

 

Maki nods, though her eyes are teary and she’s only half-listening. Once she is able to properly breathe, she turns around and faces Kaito again. He looks more physically put together compared to last night, and his spirit is undeterred, as usual. His hair is slicked back over his head, held together by some supernatural gel, and he has shaved all signs of stubble from his jaw, save for the goatee he refuses to touch. Kaito grins and casually rests his chin on his palm.

 

“So, what have you been up to, Maki?” he questions while his eyes sparkle with the stars of the Milky Way. Maki blinks a few times to adjust to the brightness.

 

“I’ve been working,” she answers easily. “As usual.”

 

Kaito cracks a grin. “How’s Marcus?”

 

Maki shudders at the mention of the rebellious little boy. “Still not listening to me.”

 

“Annabelle?”

 

“Growing faster than anyone else.”

 

“Jun?”

 

“He’s developed drawing skills—drew me something, actually.” Maki gestures behind her, to the fridge, where she has stuck Jun’s miniature drawing of Maki holding his hand. Maki’s pigtails are slightly disproportional, but when she saw how concentrated he was on getting her bangs right, Maki couldn’t step in to protest.

 

Kaito chuckles. It’s soft and faint, but it’s enough to send rumbles down Maki’s chest. “What about Matthew?” he suggests.

 

Maki sighs. Matthew has been troublesome lately. He’s been wailing over some girl from his school—a girl who, though aware of his crush, refuses to accept his confession no matter how many flowers he flourishes for her. It’s endearing, in an annoying way. “He’s found a girl,” Maki answers simply, resting her chin on her knuckles. She gives up on her breakfast.

 

Kaito slams a hand on the table as he laughs boisterously. Maki ignores her thumping heart, which pounds louder than his laughter. What is wrong with her? Is the lingering adrenaline not flushed from her system yet?

 

“He’s at that age already!” Kaito forces out between his chuckles. “I need to ask him about it next time I see him.”

 

Maki grabs a strand of hair and squeezes it anxiously. “He’s coming today,” she states. It’s, in a way, an invite to get Kaito to stay longer before he’s whisked away.

 

Kaito’s face instantly light up and his eyes twinkle charmingly. “That’s amazing! I’d like to see him again!”

 

There’s a particular curl to his words that gently envelope Maki into mild reverence. “That would be good,” she murmurs, and gazes down at her hands rested in her lap. She flushes with warmth. “I miss you,” she says, but does not look at Kaito.

 

All she sees is the red of her skirt, but she can hear the smile in Kaito’s voice, as he replies geniality, “that’s silly, Maki—I’m right here.”

 

Maki startles with a tremble. The words hit her with an eerie resonance and quickly deplete the comfort she bathes in. The warmth swirling around her swiftly turns feverish and her throat starts to protest. Maki is suddenly restless. The room, with its child-safe corners and benign colours, warp into a knife that presses its tip against Maki’s back. She steals a rapid glance at the clock. She has to care for Matthew at three, meaning they have four hours. Four hours for Maki to abandon this feeling that has a steadfast grip on her shoulders. She glances up at Kaito, who stares out the window, taken by a mysterious wonder.

 

“Let’s go somewhere,” she says, while he continues to gaze outside. He blinks and stirs the dust by his lashes, but does not turn to look at her. There’s a smile hidden beneath his palm.

 

“Let’s see how Shuichi’s doing,” Kaito proposes. He stands and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. Maki goes to toss her cereal down the drain, and wonders why the strange feeling follows her with a determined linger.

 

* * *

 

Shuichi grapples blindly for his cup of coffee. His finger worries at his dry lips. The evidence—the blood splatter, the broken glass, the trajectory, the bullet—all suggest that shot was taken from a rather close point, most likely from atop _Lupin_ , a tiring furniture production company near the hotel. He believes this was mostly the work of someone under immense pressure, or maybe merely someone who failed to think before shooting. Whoever fired the bullet has experience thrumming beneath their skin. It was done hastily; perhaps out of caution of being noticed, but it was accurate. It was done taking into account forensics, lab tests, an autopsy, but it fluked in the end. _Why would_ , Shuichi wonders, _someone with experienced hands go in for a headshot?_ His co-workers involved in the investigation believe it to be done by an amateur, nervous and fiddly with their job.

 

Unfortunately, everyone, from his department or otherwise, also suggest that it must’ve been done further, from a fair distance away on the balcony of _Deltora_ , a building home to financial marketers, managers, and property accountants. Shuichi does not believe that at all. Though, in theory, shooting from _Deltora_ certainly sounds more plausible, there are ten times more unaccounted variables compared to that from _Lupin_.

 

Shuichi sighs. No one can see what he sees, and he especially has trouble putting forward his views because he’s new and not as respected as his seniors. He needs stronger, more concise evidence, but for that, he needs an autopsy.

 

What would his uncle say, if he were here? Shuichi can’t guess, because his uncle is always erratic and unpredictable. He didn’t have much respect in the workforce either, but he certainly had Shuichi’s admiration.

 

Shuichi needs to get himself and his notes together. Failing to bring forth justice would be despicable. Just as he begins to gather them into one, neat pile, his phone blares and vibrates on the table. If it weren’t for the folder in his mouth, Shuichi would’ve screamed. He almost spills his coffee though, and his heart pounds at the thought of what nearly—and could’ve—happened. When he checks the caller ID, Shuichi startles. He blinks twice, to wash away illusions cast upon him by his delusional, coffee-driven brain, but the phone still vibrates with Kaito Momota’s name displayed on the screen. He answers it hastily.

 

Before he can get a word in, Kaito’s voice powers through the speakers, calling out his name in a dramatic declare. Shuichi almost draws the phone away, but Kaito’s voice brings such a pleasant peal that he can’t bring himself to do so.

 

“Kaito,” he replies, almost breathlessly.

 

“Yeah, Shuichi!” Kaito answers, while his laughter thunders down the call. “Maki and I are heading out for an early lunch! Meet us at _Takasebune_!”

 

Shuichi checks his watch. It’s eleven—certainly an early lunch. Before he can reply, the dial of the ended call vibrates his ears. Shuichi glances down at his phone screen, still breathless.

 

* * *

  

Maki is listening to Kaito recount Mars for the fifth time when Shuichi walks in. He glances around nervously, and Maki does him the favour of waving him to their table. She remembers the times where she was too nervous in his presence to look him in the eye without a wave of anxiety slamming into her and rendering her breathless. She remembers ignoring his flittering, overstrung gaze as he scoured restaurants for them. Now, she berates him for skipping sleep, and brings him meals when he forgets to eat.

 

He walks over with a tired smile already tugging at his lips, and sunken cheeks forming deep crescents. Kaito twists so vigorously in his chair that it scrapes the floor loud enough to let out a hideous screech that leaves eyes turning towards him. “Shuichi!” he exclaims excitedly. “I’m back! How is work? Did you get your promotion? How is work?”

 

Maki gets up from her seat across Kaito, cutting him off mid-sentence, and pulls out a chair for Shuichi, who flushes in embarrassment. “Thank you, Maki,” he says appreciatively, as he sits down hard next to Kaito, who glances at their exchange. Maki doesn’t say a word as she shifts to sit back down.

 

Shuichi smiles warmly, and his dry lips crack slightly. “I’m doing well, Kaito,” he answers, though Maki can hear sentiment wavering his voice. “And yes, I got my promotion, I’m officially a detective now.”

 

Kaito’s eyes widen, and seem to reflect stars, even in an enclosed room. “That’s- that's,” he stutters for words. Eventually, he settles for none and seizes Shuichi into a whole-hearted embrace. From across the table, Maki can see Shuichi’s eyes glisten.

 

“Congratulations!” Kaito screams, as Shuichi bursts into tears.

 

Maki fishes around in her leather jacket for tissues – she foretold that this would happen, and brought with her a packet beforehand. She hands one to Shuichi, who dabs at his eyes meticulously. When the waitress comes for their order, Shuichi is too garbled to say anything, so Kaito jumps in, saving them from weird looks.

 

“It’ll be the miso ramen for him,” Kaito supplies, as the waitress scribbles in the order.

 

Maki stops her with a hand. “Sorry, make that beef udon.”

 

With the final order, the waitress walks off, and Kaito gives Maki an odd look. “Beef udon?” he asks, as he glances back and forth between Shuichi and herself. “Since when?”

 

Maki waits for Shuichi to reply, but since he’s still occupied, she fills in for him. “Since six months ago,” she says. “He said it looked nice and gave it a try.”

 

Kaito makes an unfathomable expression, and mutters slowly: “when did you two get so close?”

 

Maki twists a strand of hair in her hand while she observes his scrutinising gaze. It flickers with the curiosity of a thousand galaxies. Eventually, Shuichi scrunches up his tissues and replies wetly, “Maki continued your routinely check-ups while you were gone.” He gives her a faint smile. “From there, we had a year to bond.” Shuichi concludes his points with a nod. “I owe Maki a lot—she helped me out of a long, dark time.”

 

When Kaito’s gaze returns to her with some sort of swirly admiration, Maki flushes down to her neck. She glances at the table. “It was nothing—you helped me, too.”

 

When she glances up, Shuichi has a smile that stretches wide across his face. “Thank you, Maki,” he says. He turns to Kaito. “So, how was your journey?”

 

Kaito gives him a wicked grin. “No, Shuichi, you’ll have to tell me about work first. If I talk—I’ll take up all our time!”

 

Maki nods once to validate his point. She has heard his story six times now, and he seems to vividly revisit the experience each time.

 

Shuichi smiles, but his expression twists into something wry—as if recalling something unpleasant. He sighs thickly. “I’m not sure what to say—other than the fact that I’m completely swamped right now. “ He runs a hand stiffly through his hair. “A new case came in, just last night, about a shooting. The target was Keebo, _Odysse_ y’s CEO.” Shuichi shakes his head. “There’s a lot of pressure to find answers and solid evidence that can reassure the public.”

 

Maki reaches over gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder—the reason why he’s so overloaded is because of her, after all. She can’t help but feel relieved, however, when Shuichi said investigators are still in search of reliable evidence—with luck, a new case with higher priority will come in, and this one will be swept under the rug.

 

Shuichi turns back to Kaito. “So,” he begins, as the forms of a soft smile take place of the harsh, crooked lines of stress. “Tell me about Mars.”

 

* * *

 

Kaito throws open the door of Maki’s home with an audacious groan. “I’m stuffed!” he fulfils, while he stretches crookedly in the crowded space. “How about you, Maki?”

 

Maki closes the door quietly, and removes her shoes at the mat. Kaito startles, realising that he has yet to do the same. “I’m satisfied,” Maki supplies, while he toes off his slippers. Maki glances at the clock on the wall. It is three. Matthew should be here soon. Maki moves to grab his truck from the basket, while Kaito flings himself onto her couch. He fiddles with the remote, before the television screen flickers on with an atrocious cry of static. Maki moves to join Kaito and separates their legs with a cushion.

 

After a while, Maki checks the clock again. It’s almost four. Did Mrs Hernandez cancel their schedule? She leans over the armrest and grabs her phone from a misplaced coffee table. No new messages. She frowns; Hernandez was usually very diligent in letting her know if they were running late, or if she didn’t need Maki’s assistance for the day.

 

Maki taps a few buttons to call Matthew’s mother. She lithely pushes herself from the couch and walks into the kitchen, so the dial tone is audible over the bleary jolts and zaps from the kids’ carton displaying on the television. After four rings, Hernandez picks up.

 

“Oh, Maki!” Hernandez exclaims, voice shrill. “Maki, Maki, have you seen Matthew anywhere?”

 

Maki blinks, and moves to the kitchen window, the one that overlooks the street. She takes a quick glance outside, but it’s barren.

 

“No, Mrs Hernandez,” Maki answers, as she pulls out a chair from the dining table.

 

On the line, Maki hears a sharp intake of breath. “Maki, Matthew wasn’t home this morning,” comes in Hernandez’s distressed wail. “He hasn't come home—I don’t know where he could’ve gone!”

 

Startled, Maki glances at the couch, where she left Matthew’s toy truck. The red lustre shines back, and suddenly, Maki remembers.

 

Maki found it on the street in front of Mr Baker’s residence. Matthew lives more than a few blocks away.

 

“Maki?” cries Mrs Hernandez. “Maki, I don’t know what to do!”

 

Maki glances at Kaito, whose eyes are transfixed on the flickering television screen. “Report it to the local police, Mrs Hernandez. Where are you now?”

 

The line crackles and sputters, but Mrs Hernandez’s anxious voice pushes through the sputter. “I have, Maki, I have—they said they’ll try their best. Oh, Maki, I don’t know what to do!” She muffles a sob, and Maki’s throat clenches. “I’m at home, you have to help me, Maki, please!”

 

Maki is already rushing out the kitchen, while she reaches for her keys in her jacket pocket. “I’m coming over right now, Mrs Hernandez.”

 

“Please!” Mrs Hernandez cries, before she hangs up.

 

Maki pulls away the dying dial and slips her phone into the pocket of her jeans. “I’m heading out!” she calls out to Kaito, who twists in his seat.

 

“Where to?” he questions, eyes bleak and blank from the overconsumption of cartoons.

 

“Matthew’s,” she answers hastily, while she struggles to pull her shoes on. Her fingers shake. “I’ll be back late, so you can leave whenever.”

 

She’s throws the door open and stumbles out with half-worn shoes. She barely catches Kaito’s last inquiry. “Do I have to lock the door?” he yells over his shoulder.

 

“No!” Maki answers, as she lets the door slam.  The house trembles, but Maki’s already dashing down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need better chapter titles - what if I run out of space-y things?  
> Talk to me on [Tumblr](https://captain-yasai.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
